Just a little holiday greeting from us to you! I made you guys this card, so you're required to like it.
I hope you've all been good or you're getting a shotgun blast to the face.
Happy Holidays!
Monday, December 20, 2010
Actual Conversations
This is a conversation between me and my mom. We were discussing the fact that my sister, who is engaged and has a fiance now, will NOT be spending Christmas with us for the first Christmas ever. There is NO possible way that I exaggerated this conversation at all.
Mom: I'm really sad about Kenna not having anything good to eat for Christmas. Maybe I should get them some groceries. It's really bothering me that they will be all alone drinking bad, cheap beer and eating frozen chicken nuggets and blue box mac and cheese while we are feasting on all the best stuff.
Rae: I say let them eat blue box mac. It will be a good character builder. Someday down the road when they're springing for Velveeta Shells and Cheese, they'll think fondly of the time before they were married when all they could afford was blue box.
Mom: How is that supposed to make me feel any better? Seriously, I have been losing sleep over this.
Rae: Mom, the whole point the holiday season is to take pleasure in the misfortune of others.
Mom: ............?
Rae: We'll send them a care package with some sandwich crusts and an orange peel. And some pictures of you and I eating giant turkey legs. And then next time, she'll know better than to spend the holiday with anyone but us.
Mom: I'm really sad about Kenna not having anything good to eat for Christmas. Maybe I should get them some groceries. It's really bothering me that they will be all alone drinking bad, cheap beer and eating frozen chicken nuggets and blue box mac and cheese while we are feasting on all the best stuff.
Rae: I say let them eat blue box mac. It will be a good character builder. Someday down the road when they're springing for Velveeta Shells and Cheese, they'll think fondly of the time before they were married when all they could afford was blue box.
Mom: How is that supposed to make me feel any better? Seriously, I have been losing sleep over this.
Rae: Mom, the whole point the holiday season is to take pleasure in the misfortune of others.
Mom: ............?
Rae: We'll send them a care package with some sandwich crusts and an orange peel. And some pictures of you and I eating giant turkey legs. And then next time, she'll know better than to spend the holiday with anyone but us.
Friday, December 17, 2010
Do YOU have RLS (Restless Lash Syndrome)?
You're lucky because it's Christmas, so I'm posting a bunch of posts that I wrote awhile ago, but hadn't posted yet. It's like your Christmas present of extra posts. So read them and be thankful. And leave comments because whenever I see that someone posted comments, it's like Christmas for ME and I get all gladful inside.-----------------------------------
*My mother and I wrote these emails back and forth trying to determine what to get a certain relative of mine for Christmas. Sometimes, I exaggerate stuff for comedic purposes, but these are actual excerpts from actual emails.
Also, If the subject realizes she is the subject (which she probably will), I just want her to know that we love her very much and that she is a wonderful, beautiful, incredible person. Also, I promise that this will not ruin any Christmas surprises and I promise to post hilariously incriminating blogs about everyone else I know so that no one is excluded from being made fun of. Please remember that I make fun of myself on this blog more than anyone else and that this whole blog is pretty much a giant exaggerated joke at everyone's expense.
*My mother and I wrote these emails back and forth trying to determine what to get a certain relative of mine for Christmas. Sometimes, I exaggerate stuff for comedic purposes, but these are actual excerpts from actual emails.
Also, If the subject realizes she is the subject (which she probably will), I just want her to know that we love her very much and that she is a wonderful, beautiful, incredible person. Also, I promise that this will not ruin any Christmas surprises and I promise to post hilariously incriminating blogs about everyone else I know so that no one is excluded from being made fun of. Please remember that I make fun of myself on this blog more than anyone else and that this whole blog is pretty much a giant exaggerated joke at everyone's expense.
---------------------------------------------------
From: Rae
Date: December 13, 2010 10:54am
To: Andi
Subject: Christmas
Mom,
What should I get Charlee for Christmas? I can't think of anything good.
---------------------------------------------
From: Andi
Date: December 13, 2010 11:02am
To: Rae
Subject: Re: Christmas
Charlee thinks her eyelashes are too short and she wants that special mascara that makes them look longer.
MOM
---------------------------------------------
From: Rae
Date: December 13, 2010 11:14am
To: Andi
Subject: Re: Christmas
Perhaps I should get her some of that Latisse stuff. You know, the stuff that Brooke Shields advertises that makes your eyelashes grow longer? Isn't that Latisse? Latisse is either that, or those pills that stop your legs from twitching in the night.
--------------------------------------------
From: Andi
Date: December 13, 2010 11:27am
To: Rae
Subject: Re: Christmas
I think Charlee is having a mental issue. She thinks she has zits and no eyelashes. But she has beautiful eyelashes and NO visible blemishes.
MOM
----------------------------------------------
From: Rae
Date: December 13, 2010 11:49am
To: Andi
Subject: Re: Christmas
Charlee IS 13 years old and is therefore expected to have mental issues. Teenagers are bombarded with pictures of people with imaginary nice skin and imaginary skinniness and expensive clothes that look good on them but look like Halloween costumes on normal people.
Now I'm torn because if I get her presents meant to address her imaginary problems, I will be reinforcing her negative self image but if I don't she'll be resentful at me for getting her a stupid book with pictures of cats wearing shoes or whatever thing I got her instead of zit stuff and magic mascara.
Also, given the fact that you have so many kids, its a miracle we don't all have mental issues. Unless you're like me and think that your kids DO all have mental problems in which case you did the best you could and oh well. If we all do, in fact, have mental problems, perhaps by now you'll have learned from your mistakes and will have better luck not messing up your grandchildren. Although that's probably an invalid point since it's pretty certain that Kenna and whichever other of the kids has kids will probably give those kids mental issues so you won't be able to help that anyways. I happen to KNOW I would give my kids mental issues so I'm going to skip having any and instead give mental issues to my cats. It's much harder to be prosecuted for animal cruelty than for child neglect.
Now I'm torn because if I get her presents meant to address her imaginary problems, I will be reinforcing her negative self image but if I don't she'll be resentful at me for getting her a stupid book with pictures of cats wearing shoes or whatever thing I got her instead of zit stuff and magic mascara.
Also, given the fact that you have so many kids, its a miracle we don't all have mental issues. Unless you're like me and think that your kids DO all have mental problems in which case you did the best you could and oh well. If we all do, in fact, have mental problems, perhaps by now you'll have learned from your mistakes and will have better luck not messing up your grandchildren. Although that's probably an invalid point since it's pretty certain that Kenna and whichever other of the kids has kids will probably give those kids mental issues so you won't be able to help that anyways. I happen to KNOW I would give my kids mental issues so I'm going to skip having any and instead give mental issues to my cats. It's much harder to be prosecuted for animal cruelty than for child neglect.
--------------------------------------------
From: Andi
Date: December 13, 2010 11:59am
To: Rae
Subject: Re: Christmas
You are in a mess because you are right. We definitely don’t want to reinforce her negative self-image. Maybe we could find her some cream for imaginary zits? And some mascara that is clear to make her think her lashes are lush. Who knows!?!
MOM
---------------------------------------------
From: Rae
Date: December 13, 2010 12:11pm
To: Andi
Subject: Re: Christmas
If we got her some clear mascara, we would have to sneak into her room each night and put it on her so that she looked great when she woke up in the morning and you already have enough to do so that's out. I have a day job as well or I could secretly live in the backyard and sneak in each night to be the eyelash fairy.
It might help make her feel better about herself if the rest of you trimmed your own eyelashes very short and thinned them out with tweezers. I am applying this concept to my own life by getting rid of everyone I know and replacing them with fat friends so that I feel skinnier. Also, when we go out drinking, I'll be the thin one in the group, which I've heard is good for your self esteem. As it stands now, I'm usually the biggest in the group and this is quite depressing.
It might help make her feel better about herself if the rest of you trimmed your own eyelashes very short and thinned them out with tweezers. I am applying this concept to my own life by getting rid of everyone I know and replacing them with fat friends so that I feel skinnier. Also, when we go out drinking, I'll be the thin one in the group, which I've heard is good for your self esteem. As it stands now, I'm usually the biggest in the group and this is quite depressing.
---------------------------------------------
From: Andi
Date: December 13, 2010 12:28pm
To: Rae
Subject: Re: Christmas
You are missing out on the real issue with Charlee. We don’t need to make her lashes bigger, cause they are just fine. She just needs to think they are bigger.
MOM
----------------------------------------------
From: Rae
Date: December 12, 2010 12:41pm
To: Andi
Subject: Re: Christmas
I agree that Charlee's eyelashes are just fine. What we should really do is superglue some freakishly long, creepy lashes to her eyelids so that when she wakes up she'll look like a tarantula and then she'll be sorry she ever wanted longer lashes and learn to be happy with what she has.
Cody is a Pomegranate
To follow is another awesome instant message conversation taking place between Cody and I. We had this conversation because we were planning to go to the Humanitarian Bowl, which is at Bronco Stadium on December 18. Northern Illinois and Fresno are playing. Yesterday's Groupon special was 50% off tickets to the Humanitarian bowl, so I wanted to buy them and save some cash; but he was adamant that we should NOT get them from Groupon because he hates technology and if we bought them from Groupon, we would experience a techno-meltdown and end up with no tickets and he'd rather pay full price to just have the tickets in his hand on game day. [sigh] Then he went into this whole thing about how he likes the 'I give you money and you give me my stuff' arrangement way better, so he'll just pay full price, thank you very much. Then today he said that Humanitarian Bowl tickets are too expensive and he wishes we'd bought them off Groupon yesterday. [facepalm]
This is the conversation:
Cody says: Hey... I just called the ticket office
Rae says: Yes?
Cody says: The $18 tickets are for the endzones only
Rae says: Jes i know this.....
Cody says: The upper deck along the curve is $25.50
Rae says: Jes
Cody says: Kinda brutal... that's $51 for both of us...
Rae says: Yesterday on Groupon they were $9 and $12.50
Cody says: Is it worth $51?
Rae says: Up to you.
Cody says: I thought they were $18 everywhere
Not just the endzones
Rae says: Nope
Cody says: I would have done Groupon had I known
Rae says: Hmmm
Cody says: Bummer... $50 sounds pretty steep to me
Rae says: Hmmmm. that IS a bummer.
Cody says: I'll just go skiing and watch the game on TV
Rae says: Super. Sounds fun to me.
Cody says: It does?
Rae says: Uh.....no.
But I know you don't have any money
Rae says: Yeah i could get mine.
Cody says: Course you did just get a christmas bonus
And it wasn't an enrollment in a jelly of the
month club...
Heh
Rae says: I spent it on your christmas presents
Cody says: Heh.....
Rae says: I spent it on the Cody of the month club
Cody says: Well your call.
If we split the cost, I say we go
Rae says: [sigh] You are a pip
Cody says: Pip?
This is the conversation:
Cody says: Hey... I just called the ticket office
Rae says: Yes?
Cody says: The $18 tickets are for the endzones only
Rae says: Jes i know this.....
Cody says: The upper deck along the curve is $25.50
Rae says: Jes
Cody says: Kinda brutal... that's $51 for both of us...
Rae says: Yesterday on Groupon they were $9 and $12.50
Cody says: Is it worth $51?
Rae says: Up to you.
Cody says: I thought they were $18 everywhere
Not just the endzones
Rae says: Nope
Cody says: I would have done Groupon had I known
Rae says: Hmmm
Cody says: Bummer... $50 sounds pretty steep to me
Rae says: Hmmmm. that IS a bummer.
Cody says: I'll just go skiing and watch the game on TV
Rae says: Super. Sounds fun to me.
Cody says: It does?
Rae says: Uh.....no.
J/k. it sounds ok.
Just not as fun as going to the game
But you're right- that's too expensive
Cody says: Well... I mean, we could split the cost...But I know you don't have any money
Rae says: Yeah i could get mine.
Cody says: Course you did just get a christmas bonus
And it wasn't an enrollment in a jelly of the
month club...
Heh
Rae says: I spent it on your christmas presents
Cody says: Heh.....
Rae says: I spent it on the Cody of the month club
Cody says: Well your call.
If we split the cost, I say we go
Rae says: [sigh] You are a pip
Cody says: Pip?
Rae says: British slang meaning piece of work
Or pain in the rump
Derived from the fact that they call fruit
seeds "pips"
And sometimes you can choke on a pip
Or have a hard time getting it out of the
fruit......
I guess what I'm saying is, you're a fruit.
Cody says: Well, you're a jackwagon Rae says: Actually, I'm pretty sure I totally made that
pip thing up.
I meant to type PIB
As in Pain In the Butt
Cody says: Heh Rae says: But you totally believed me, you pip.
Yay, typos.
[Cody has signed out of messenger]
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Worst Blog Post Ever [It is super long and rambling and has no pictures or cartoons] :(
So, it turns out that last night we went to a hockey game and I drank too much. I say "it turns out" like going to the game was a spontaneous thing, but that's a lie. We had it planned for like 3 weeks. But I didn't know that I would drink too much. Actually, that's a lie too. I had a pretty good idea. Anyway, last night we went to a hockey game at one of those nice hockey suites sponsored by someone Cody does business with. Long story short, there was free wine and I had approximately one bottle all to myself. Actually, that wasn't that long of a story. I didn't need to say "long story short".
I went to the hockey game and instead of stuffing my face with free food like most people would do, I stuffed my face with free booze because hey, you gotta have your priorities. Then on the way home, I made Cody stop at Albertsons so I could go in and buy another bottle and I drank that one too. I probably wouldn't have drank so much, but as I've told you before, I have this crippling social phobia I never used to have. I think my clients gave it to me. In situations where I have to pretend to like people, my upper lip gets all sweaty and my chest breaks out in a rash and I become acutely aware of every tiny thing I do. You know when you're trying hard to listen to someone in a social situation and you want to seem genuinely interested, you can't ever figured out what to do with your mouth? Should you purse your lips? Should you smile or not? What if they get dry? Will someone notice if you lick your lips to wet them? Is it ok to just do NOTHING with your mouth? How do you make your mouth seem interested? Don't you ever wonder these things? No? Well I do, all the time. Then I have to run to the bathroom and hide in a stall.
So I just drank more and more and more so I would feel social. I even called my mom and my sister to talk to them about how socially awkward I am, so they got to share in my evening. I also went up to a bunch of Fresno football players and talked to them and got REALLY butt-hurt at Cody when he passed Pat Hill on the street and Cody didn't point him out because for some reason I really,really wanted a hug from Pat Hill. Cody said Pat Hill would probably not want a hug from me, but I beg to differ. Pat Hill would be totally into hugging me. But by that time it was too late.
After drinking too much wine, I sat up until I don't even know how late listening to "Fancy" by Reba McEntire over and over and over again. Being drunk off of wine is unusual because all of a sudden you're just gone, like someone flipped a switch. One minute I'm singing "Fancy don't let me down", the next, I'm flying up off of the couch in a panic and it's 7:35 am. I'm lucky I woke up when I did because I'm supposed to be at work at 8 and I don't even remember laying down or Cody leaving and going to bed and I didn't set any sort of alarm. It was like my brain went "Hey, dummy! You're supposed to be up already and getting ready for work and thinking about how you don't want to go to work. You're not doing that yet. Start doing that!" Lucky for me, my hair still looked good, so I just changed clothes and got in the car to go to work. And then I realized I was still feeling tipsy. And not wearing underpants because I couldn't find any clean ones. [Notice how I'm always broadcasting my underpants situation to you all? I'm lucky anyone reads this blog because no one really needs to hear my underpants updates but I give them anyway. If anyone even reads this blog, which they probably don't.] Calling in sick was the most tempting thing in the world, but I decided to go to work because calling in drunk is bad for your reputation.
On a side note, if you happen to have a really crappy window scraper like I do, your old expired motorcycle permit works really well. Better than a proper window scraper, actually. I went ahead and used it even though it has a really really good picture of me on it because my current driver's license looks like I'm wearing a fat suit and a red clown nose and no one would believe that the good motorcycle permit picture is even me at this point.
I realized as I was getting dressed for work that I'm actually a genius. I'm like a stealth ninja monkey. I look like total crap today; HOWEVER, I ALWAYS look like crap for work because I don't really get ready for work, I just put on clothes and get ready for work AT work. So I can inadvertently hide the fact that I'm not on my game some days because I always look like I'm not on my game even when I actually am. But today I'm not. And no one will notice because I always look like this. On the other hand, my co-workers probably think its weird that after an hour at work, I magically look better than I did when I got there because at some point, I've put on makeup and done my hair.
Anyways, on the way to work, I ended up racing a hearse limo and I'm totally not making that up. I didn't even know those existed, but they do. I was next to it at a stoplight and my foot itched inside my shoe so I was trying to scratch it and my foot slipped and I accidentally slammed on the gas and revved the engine. They must have thought I was trying to goad them into racing because they revved back and when the light turned green, they took off like a bat out of hell. Those hearse limos can actually go really fast if you were wondering.
While I was driving to work, I took a shortcut on this side street through a residential area. This red Volvo was in front of me and it was going ridiculously slow, probably because I was in a hurry and tailgating him so he wanted to teach me a lesson. I was all yelling at him about how I had somewhere to be, like he could hear me, and then all of a sudden there was a cop parked on the side of the road. The red Volvo instantly became my friend because I'm pretty sure if I got pulled over, I could still get a DUI because I'm probably still drunk. I deduced this from the fact that prior to the whole red Volvo thing, someone made a funny joke on the Bob & Tom show and I smiled and I would never smile on the way to work unless I was drunk so I must still be drunk. Thanks for going on that tangent with me. Anyways, the cop on the side of the road literally did a u-turn and came up behind us and pulled over the guy right behind me. And then I was all "oh thank you red Volvo man! How did you KNOW, red Volvo man? You must be clairvoyant! You are my guardian angel. My guardian angel in a red Volvo, red Volvo man!" Because everyone knows you're an alcoholic if you get a DUI at 8 o'clock in the morning.
UPDATE: It's now 12:40 pm and I've officially hit a wall. I actually feel ok, but I'm extremely tired. Like, the kind of tired where you're nodding off while sitting up. Like when you're in college and you have a class at 2 in the afternoon right after you eat a big lunch and it's in a really warm lecture hall where they keep the lights low so they can use the projector so you nod off and someone has to wake you up on their way by because class is over and you didn't know. That kind of tired. That's the worst kind of tired because you SO want to go home and take a nap, but then after class, you have to walk home in the snow and then realize you locked yourself out of your apartment and you have to wait for your roommate to get home to let you in and by that time, the drowsiness is gone and you don't need a nap anymore. But then you take one anyways and wake up and its 1am and realize you haven't done your geology homework and you have class in the morning so you drink some coffee and try to do it but now it's really late and you get the drowsy feeling again while you're trying to read your geology book so you finally blow it off and go to bed and then the coffee kicks in and you can't fall back to sleep. THAT kind of tired totally sucks.
I have to go make coffee now because I thought ice water would wake me up because of the coldness, but it's not working. Also, you know when there's a fly in the house and it keeps buzzing around your head annoying you but whenever you try to swat it or kill it, it darts away so you can't reach it? That's what my thoughts are doing in my head. For the whole day so far.
I'm never drinking two bottles of wine on a weekday again.
I went to the hockey game and instead of stuffing my face with free food like most people would do, I stuffed my face with free booze because hey, you gotta have your priorities. Then on the way home, I made Cody stop at Albertsons so I could go in and buy another bottle and I drank that one too. I probably wouldn't have drank so much, but as I've told you before, I have this crippling social phobia I never used to have. I think my clients gave it to me. In situations where I have to pretend to like people, my upper lip gets all sweaty and my chest breaks out in a rash and I become acutely aware of every tiny thing I do. You know when you're trying hard to listen to someone in a social situation and you want to seem genuinely interested, you can't ever figured out what to do with your mouth? Should you purse your lips? Should you smile or not? What if they get dry? Will someone notice if you lick your lips to wet them? Is it ok to just do NOTHING with your mouth? How do you make your mouth seem interested? Don't you ever wonder these things? No? Well I do, all the time. Then I have to run to the bathroom and hide in a stall.
So I just drank more and more and more so I would feel social. I even called my mom and my sister to talk to them about how socially awkward I am, so they got to share in my evening. I also went up to a bunch of Fresno football players and talked to them and got REALLY butt-hurt at Cody when he passed Pat Hill on the street and Cody didn't point him out because for some reason I really,really wanted a hug from Pat Hill. Cody said Pat Hill would probably not want a hug from me, but I beg to differ. Pat Hill would be totally into hugging me. But by that time it was too late.
After drinking too much wine, I sat up until I don't even know how late listening to "Fancy" by Reba McEntire over and over and over again. Being drunk off of wine is unusual because all of a sudden you're just gone, like someone flipped a switch. One minute I'm singing "Fancy don't let me down", the next, I'm flying up off of the couch in a panic and it's 7:35 am. I'm lucky I woke up when I did because I'm supposed to be at work at 8 and I don't even remember laying down or Cody leaving and going to bed and I didn't set any sort of alarm. It was like my brain went "Hey, dummy! You're supposed to be up already and getting ready for work and thinking about how you don't want to go to work. You're not doing that yet. Start doing that!" Lucky for me, my hair still looked good, so I just changed clothes and got in the car to go to work. And then I realized I was still feeling tipsy. And not wearing underpants because I couldn't find any clean ones. [Notice how I'm always broadcasting my underpants situation to you all? I'm lucky anyone reads this blog because no one really needs to hear my underpants updates but I give them anyway. If anyone even reads this blog, which they probably don't.] Calling in sick was the most tempting thing in the world, but I decided to go to work because calling in drunk is bad for your reputation.
On a side note, if you happen to have a really crappy window scraper like I do, your old expired motorcycle permit works really well. Better than a proper window scraper, actually. I went ahead and used it even though it has a really really good picture of me on it because my current driver's license looks like I'm wearing a fat suit and a red clown nose and no one would believe that the good motorcycle permit picture is even me at this point.
I realized as I was getting dressed for work that I'm actually a genius. I'm like a stealth ninja monkey. I look like total crap today; HOWEVER, I ALWAYS look like crap for work because I don't really get ready for work, I just put on clothes and get ready for work AT work. So I can inadvertently hide the fact that I'm not on my game some days because I always look like I'm not on my game even when I actually am. But today I'm not. And no one will notice because I always look like this. On the other hand, my co-workers probably think its weird that after an hour at work, I magically look better than I did when I got there because at some point, I've put on makeup and done my hair.
Anyways, on the way to work, I ended up racing a hearse limo and I'm totally not making that up. I didn't even know those existed, but they do. I was next to it at a stoplight and my foot itched inside my shoe so I was trying to scratch it and my foot slipped and I accidentally slammed on the gas and revved the engine. They must have thought I was trying to goad them into racing because they revved back and when the light turned green, they took off like a bat out of hell. Those hearse limos can actually go really fast if you were wondering.
While I was driving to work, I took a shortcut on this side street through a residential area. This red Volvo was in front of me and it was going ridiculously slow, probably because I was in a hurry and tailgating him so he wanted to teach me a lesson. I was all yelling at him about how I had somewhere to be, like he could hear me, and then all of a sudden there was a cop parked on the side of the road. The red Volvo instantly became my friend because I'm pretty sure if I got pulled over, I could still get a DUI because I'm probably still drunk. I deduced this from the fact that prior to the whole red Volvo thing, someone made a funny joke on the Bob & Tom show and I smiled and I would never smile on the way to work unless I was drunk so I must still be drunk. Thanks for going on that tangent with me. Anyways, the cop on the side of the road literally did a u-turn and came up behind us and pulled over the guy right behind me. And then I was all "oh thank you red Volvo man! How did you KNOW, red Volvo man? You must be clairvoyant! You are my guardian angel. My guardian angel in a red Volvo, red Volvo man!" Because everyone knows you're an alcoholic if you get a DUI at 8 o'clock in the morning.
UPDATE: It's now 12:40 pm and I've officially hit a wall. I actually feel ok, but I'm extremely tired. Like, the kind of tired where you're nodding off while sitting up. Like when you're in college and you have a class at 2 in the afternoon right after you eat a big lunch and it's in a really warm lecture hall where they keep the lights low so they can use the projector so you nod off and someone has to wake you up on their way by because class is over and you didn't know. That kind of tired. That's the worst kind of tired because you SO want to go home and take a nap, but then after class, you have to walk home in the snow and then realize you locked yourself out of your apartment and you have to wait for your roommate to get home to let you in and by that time, the drowsiness is gone and you don't need a nap anymore. But then you take one anyways and wake up and its 1am and realize you haven't done your geology homework and you have class in the morning so you drink some coffee and try to do it but now it's really late and you get the drowsy feeling again while you're trying to read your geology book so you finally blow it off and go to bed and then the coffee kicks in and you can't fall back to sleep. THAT kind of tired totally sucks.
I have to go make coffee now because I thought ice water would wake me up because of the coldness, but it's not working. Also, you know when there's a fly in the house and it keeps buzzing around your head annoying you but whenever you try to swat it or kill it, it darts away so you can't reach it? That's what my thoughts are doing in my head. For the whole day so far.
I'm never drinking two bottles of wine on a weekday again.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Santa Will Bust a Cap in Yo Ass *UPDATED
Look out folks. Santa is on a tirade and we're all gonna die. Do you see what happens when we give someone a GUN? Guns kill people. People don't kill people. Crazed whack-job psycho people do not kill people. Guns do. And now we're all screwed. Santa has had a taste of the sweet satisfaction that comes from blasting a naughty child in the face. He's on a nationwide campaign to spread evil, wrapping up firearms and distributing them to your children under the tree.
I feel like this could be a really useful parenting tool. "Kids, if you don't behave, Santa's gonna fill you full of lead."
I know when I was a child and I saw people on TV with guns, I thought it must be ok because TV and John Wayne said so. I begged my mom for a weapon for weeks prior to Christmas and she bought me one because she thought it would be ok since she once saw a picture of a person with a gun and they were smiling. Which means guns make people happy. My mom has always wanted me to be happy, so she gave me the gun and wouldn't you know, three days later, I accidentally shot the eyeball out of my favorite kitten. If only we hadn't seen a person with a gun once, we wouldn't have been in that mess at all.
I once saw a life-sized, gun shaped tequila bottle in the liquor store and thought to myself how wrong it was to store alcohol inside weapon-shaped vessels because college students might think it was ok to drink their body shots from the barrell of a shotgun, which could result in accidentally blowing away your self or your friends during tequila night. If only I'd had the foresight to get in touch with the local media station, I may have succeeded in getting the gun-shaped bottled recalled to prevent futurestupidity injury. Luckily, we have wonderful, concerned citizens like Monica Silva Anonymous to make sure things like this don't happen.
Incidentally, this same lady once got really sick and in a fever-induced delirium found Mother Teresa in a block of cheddar cheese as she stood in front of the refrigerator trying to cool down. She lobbied hard to get the cheese blessed by the pope and put on display for all the country's children to see so that they could be inspired to spend their time looking for religious icons in dairy products instead of dressing up as a cowboy like Santa and shooting people.
*I wish I was making up that cheese thing, but I wasn't. If you don't believe me, you can read this article.
UPDATE: Just to further prove how serious this Mother Teresa Cheese thing is, I provide you this picture. If this isn't clear cut evidence that Cheeses Christ put his hand upon that cheddar, I don't know what would be. Seriously people.
I feel like this could be a really useful parenting tool. "Kids, if you don't behave, Santa's gonna fill you full of lead."
I know when I was a child and I saw people on TV with guns, I thought it must be ok because TV and John Wayne said so. I begged my mom for a weapon for weeks prior to Christmas and she bought me one because she thought it would be ok since she once saw a picture of a person with a gun and they were smiling. Which means guns make people happy. My mom has always wanted me to be happy, so she gave me the gun and wouldn't you know, three days later, I accidentally shot the eyeball out of my favorite kitten. If only we hadn't seen a person with a gun once, we wouldn't have been in that mess at all.
I once saw a life-sized, gun shaped tequila bottle in the liquor store and thought to myself how wrong it was to store alcohol inside weapon-shaped vessels because college students might think it was ok to drink their body shots from the barrell of a shotgun, which could result in accidentally blowing away your self or your friends during tequila night. If only I'd had the foresight to get in touch with the local media station, I may have succeeded in getting the gun-shaped bottled recalled to prevent future
Incidentally, this same lady once got really sick and in a fever-induced delirium found Mother Teresa in a block of cheddar cheese as she stood in front of the refrigerator trying to cool down. She lobbied hard to get the cheese blessed by the pope and put on display for all the country's children to see so that they could be inspired to spend their time looking for religious icons in dairy products instead of dressing up as a cowboy like Santa and shooting people.
*I wish I was making up that cheese thing, but I wasn't. If you don't believe me, you can read this article.
UPDATE: Just to further prove how serious this Mother Teresa Cheese thing is, I provide you this picture. If this isn't clear cut evidence that Cheeses Christ put his hand upon that cheddar, I don't know what would be. Seriously people.
Monday, December 13, 2010
Today's Blog Post Brought To You By Math
Lynne is my boss. You can learn more about her awesome skills in this old post. Sometimes, I have to do Lynne's work for her because she's going on vacation or has an important salad to eat or doesn't feel like doing stuff. I realize this is because I am the office bitch and there's nothing I can do about it. I'm coming to terms with it. To help illustrate my point, I have created this diagram showing the Senior Solutions office hierarcy:
As a college student, I did learn some very important math skills. I took over two math classes at BSU, so I feel like I'm pretty much a professional at crunching numbers and processing data. Some people argue that math isn't relevant to life. They say they'll never use it outside of school. To those people I say au contraire, bonjour. Despite having a career that requires absolutely zero math skills, I happen to have put my own math skills to good use by illustrating my points through pie charts. For example:
Alas, I have found that more often than not, the case is as follows:
I'm sure many of you can relate to this. I have remained at the same point on the totem pole since I began college, regardless of my job. I seem to have hit some sort of glass totem pole ceiling. When I graduated, I thought (wrongly) that I might actually get to move up the pole. I figured if I had a degree and a professional license, that had to put me above a few people, right? It does. As you can plainly see from the illustration, I'm in a position to have as many as one intern working right under me.
Alas, I have found that more often than not, the case is as follows:
The data from that second graph can actually be extended beyond the realm of my work and applied to other parts of my life, like paying bills, exercising, taking showers, or getting out of bed. You could also change the title of the above graph to "How Much Rae Likes People", "How Sober is Rae", or "How Interesting Are Rae's Blog Posts". You can even manipulate the graph to apply to other people. For example, it could also be entitled "How Good Kyle Brotzman is at Field Goals" or "How Productive is Cody before 10am".
Since I am obviously very good at producing relevant, functional, all-purpose graphs, I would be happy to make a graph for you. Just email me the information and I can produce some graphics for your next fiscal report or office meeting. I'd be happy to get to that as soon as I'm not doing Lynne's work for her. And if you're curious about when that is, please refer to the following graph:
Friday, December 3, 2010
Cabin Fever
I don't know about the rest of you, but Cody and I have been in a little bit of a funk. Actually, Cody has been in a little bit of a funk. I've been in a full-blown, five-alarm psychosis. The funkiness seems to have stemmed from the fact that sometime between Halloween and Thanksgiving, sneaky devil aliens took over the planet and transformed it into a weird, foggy nightmare land where it's dark all the time and constantly raining/snowing and armies of crazed zombie shoppers stagger around in public places, making it impossible to find a parking space or buy something without standing in line for an hour. Either that, or its wintertime and the holiday season. I'm sticking with the alien/zombie mutant scenario because it's less depressing.
Whatever the reason, we haven't done much lately except go home after work and sit in the house with the blinds closed, watching whatever swill is on the TV and drinking ourselves into numbness for seven hours straight. This constant confinement has begun to take its toll because Cody and I are starting to get cabin fever from wandering around in the dark half-drunk and bumping into each other. He deals with it better than I do. He was able to stave off looniness by going skiing for four days straight over the Thanksgiving holiday. I, on the other hand, have descended into full-blown madness. So if anyone wonders why they haven't heard from me, it's because I've been sitting in the corner of my closet in a straightjacket, watching invisible fireflies and singing "London bridge is falling down" over and over again.
I suppose getting some exercise would help things. Unfortunately, the entire city is knee-deep in filthy, wet slush, so outdoor workouts aren't an option. I'd go to a gym, but the thought of standing elbow to elbow with all the zombies on a treadmill in a row of treadmills in a sea of workout equipment sends me right back to my closet. I could go out and do something, but I'm nearly paralyzed by the thought of driving through all the holiday chaos. Plus, I don't own a practical pair of shoes, which means I'll look like an idiot sliding across sheets of ice and baby-stepping around ten foot deep slush puddles in my 3 inch stiletto boots. I guess I'll order a pair of galoshes off of Amazon.com and then sit in the closet until they're delivered.
Yesterday, I decided I couldn't take another night of TV and alcohol and in a flash of brilliance, decided I would MAKE Christmas presents this year. I did some looking around online and determined how to accomplish making the thing I decided to make and then went to the craft store on my lunch hour. With all the shopper-zombies. Dumb.
I stood in line for almost 40 minutes and used up my lunch hour and then some. I was so flustered by how busy it was- even in the early afternoon on a weekday- that I forgot some things I needed and had to go back after work, when it was even busier. I was totally disenchanted with the whole "crafty" thing at this point. What were all those people doing in the craft store at two o'clock in the afternoon on a Thursday? Didn't any of them have jobs? What could they possibly be making? I decided I was never trying to do a craft project again. After all, we know how the "homemade gift" thing goes. You go and buy all the crap to make the thing and then life and bills and work and exercise and groceries and laundry happen and you never actually finish it, so you end up spending twice as much money because you have to go and buy actual presents and then your Christmas craft junk sits around and craps up your house until St. Patrick's day when you decide you'll never finish and you throw it away. I was never going to do another project.
Until......I actually sat down and made the thing I was going to make. Unfortunately, I can't tell you or show you what it is because the people the things are for might read this and then wonder if it's for them and the surprise would be ruined and then the rest of you would be jealous because you all want one too, but I can't make enough things for everyone cause I have a day job. Which is too bad, because the things that I made? Super awesome. They are insanely cool and I stayed up *way* too late being crafty and watching American Dad and having way too much fun for a weeknight and now today I'm too tired to use proper grammar. So just know that my craft skills will melt your face off.
Also, while I was at the craft store, I had the most awkward conversation of my life with the really weird (possibly stoned) clerk who had the most monotone voice of all time. I can't remember her name, so I'm gonna call her Cashier (which is probably something some idiot would actually name their daughter, except it would be pronounced with a French accent, like "cash-yay"). It went something like this:
Cashier: "Oh my gosh, your eyelashes are really long."
Me: "Thanks"
I instantly felt like a douche for saying thanks because she may not have been complimenting me, but just making an observation. Maybe she actually thinks long eyelashes are creepy.
Cashier: "I like your earrings, too. They're really cute."
Me: "Oh, thanks."
Cashier: "That coat is really pretty. Did you get it at Ross?"
Me: "Uh, no.....the mall. Thanks, though."
Since there are about a billion stores in the mall, she probably thought I was NOT telling her the exact store on purpose so she couldn't go and buy the same coat and now she thinks I'm a dick.
Cashier: "Your hair is really long, too."
I hesitate. Is this another observation? Should I say thanks?
Cashier: "It's really pretty."
I couldn't say thanks again or I would feel like a schmuck. Why was she doing this? Was she trying to make my head explode? My mind was racing. I just smiled weakly and then realized I should compliment her back because that's the socially acceptable thing to do.
Me: "I really like your....bracelet."
Cashier: "These are my register keys....."
Cashier holds up her arm to reveal one of those stretchy, curly bands that looks like a telephone cord with some small keys dangling from it.
Me: "Oh....."
Awkward silence.
Cashier: "That's a cute ring too. Jeez...I guess everything about you is just cute, cute, cute....."
Awkward silence. She said this in a very bitter, sarcastic tone so that I felt really guilty, like I did something wrong.
Cashier: [points behind me] "But I like HER coat better than yours, so don't get a big head or anything...."
We both turn to look at the customer behind me, whose coat was actually a bath robe.
Me: "Heh....me...too......"
Cashier stares at me without blinking, then slowly, wordlessly extends her hand to give me my receipt. She holds onto it for a few seconds after I grab it so I can't take it right away and I'm forced to just stand there, both of us holding the receipt. When she finally lets go, my hand drops and I knock over the little Jerry's Kids donation can. Instead of picking it up, I just turned and ran out of the store.
I'm not sure just when I became this socially awkward. Maybe I always was. Or maybe I haven't been getting out enough lately. Or *maybe* Cashier was actually a zombie.
Whatever the reason, we haven't done much lately except go home after work and sit in the house with the blinds closed, watching whatever swill is on the TV and drinking ourselves into numbness for seven hours straight. This constant confinement has begun to take its toll because Cody and I are starting to get cabin fever from wandering around in the dark half-drunk and bumping into each other. He deals with it better than I do. He was able to stave off looniness by going skiing for four days straight over the Thanksgiving holiday. I, on the other hand, have descended into full-blown madness. So if anyone wonders why they haven't heard from me, it's because I've been sitting in the corner of my closet in a straightjacket, watching invisible fireflies and singing "London bridge is falling down" over and over again.
I suppose getting some exercise would help things. Unfortunately, the entire city is knee-deep in filthy, wet slush, so outdoor workouts aren't an option. I'd go to a gym, but the thought of standing elbow to elbow with all the zombies on a treadmill in a row of treadmills in a sea of workout equipment sends me right back to my closet. I could go out and do something, but I'm nearly paralyzed by the thought of driving through all the holiday chaos. Plus, I don't own a practical pair of shoes, which means I'll look like an idiot sliding across sheets of ice and baby-stepping around ten foot deep slush puddles in my 3 inch stiletto boots. I guess I'll order a pair of galoshes off of Amazon.com and then sit in the closet until they're delivered.
Yesterday, I decided I couldn't take another night of TV and alcohol and in a flash of brilliance, decided I would MAKE Christmas presents this year. I did some looking around online and determined how to accomplish making the thing I decided to make and then went to the craft store on my lunch hour. With all the shopper-zombies. Dumb.
I stood in line for almost 40 minutes and used up my lunch hour and then some. I was so flustered by how busy it was- even in the early afternoon on a weekday- that I forgot some things I needed and had to go back after work, when it was even busier. I was totally disenchanted with the whole "crafty" thing at this point. What were all those people doing in the craft store at two o'clock in the afternoon on a Thursday? Didn't any of them have jobs? What could they possibly be making? I decided I was never trying to do a craft project again. After all, we know how the "homemade gift" thing goes. You go and buy all the crap to make the thing and then life and bills and work and exercise and groceries and laundry happen and you never actually finish it, so you end up spending twice as much money because you have to go and buy actual presents and then your Christmas craft junk sits around and craps up your house until St. Patrick's day when you decide you'll never finish and you throw it away. I was never going to do another project.
Until......I actually sat down and made the thing I was going to make. Unfortunately, I can't tell you or show you what it is because the people the things are for might read this and then wonder if it's for them and the surprise would be ruined and then the rest of you would be jealous because you all want one too, but I can't make enough things for everyone cause I have a day job. Which is too bad, because the things that I made? Super awesome. They are insanely cool and I stayed up *way* too late being crafty and watching American Dad and having way too much fun for a weeknight and now today I'm too tired to use proper grammar. So just know that my craft skills will melt your face off.
Also, while I was at the craft store, I had the most awkward conversation of my life with the really weird (possibly stoned) clerk who had the most monotone voice of all time. I can't remember her name, so I'm gonna call her Cashier (which is probably something some idiot would actually name their daughter, except it would be pronounced with a French accent, like "cash-yay"). It went something like this:
Cashier: "Oh my gosh, your eyelashes are really long."
Me: "Thanks"
I instantly felt like a douche for saying thanks because she may not have been complimenting me, but just making an observation. Maybe she actually thinks long eyelashes are creepy.
Cashier: "I like your earrings, too. They're really cute."
Me: "Oh, thanks."
Cashier: "That coat is really pretty. Did you get it at Ross?"
Me: "Uh, no.....the mall. Thanks, though."
Since there are about a billion stores in the mall, she probably thought I was NOT telling her the exact store on purpose so she couldn't go and buy the same coat and now she thinks I'm a dick.
Cashier: "Your hair is really long, too."
I hesitate. Is this another observation? Should I say thanks?
Cashier: "It's really pretty."
I couldn't say thanks again or I would feel like a schmuck. Why was she doing this? Was she trying to make my head explode? My mind was racing. I just smiled weakly and then realized I should compliment her back because that's the socially acceptable thing to do.
Me: "I really like your....bracelet."
Cashier: "These are my register keys....."
Cashier holds up her arm to reveal one of those stretchy, curly bands that looks like a telephone cord with some small keys dangling from it.
Me: "Oh....."
Awkward silence.
Cashier: "That's a cute ring too. Jeez...I guess everything about you is just cute, cute, cute....."
Awkward silence. She said this in a very bitter, sarcastic tone so that I felt really guilty, like I did something wrong.
Cashier: [points behind me] "But I like HER coat better than yours, so don't get a big head or anything...."
We both turn to look at the customer behind me, whose coat was actually a bath robe.
Me: "Heh....me...too......"
Cashier stares at me without blinking, then slowly, wordlessly extends her hand to give me my receipt. She holds onto it for a few seconds after I grab it so I can't take it right away and I'm forced to just stand there, both of us holding the receipt. When she finally lets go, my hand drops and I knock over the little Jerry's Kids donation can. Instead of picking it up, I just turned and ran out of the store.
I'm not sure just when I became this socially awkward. Maybe I always was. Or maybe I haven't been getting out enough lately. Or *maybe* Cashier was actually a zombie.
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